Broken
by Lynn's Stories
Summary: Mysterious visions plague Captain Crane as Seaview races to reach Admiral Nelson after he is shipwrecked. A scene-filler and story expansion for the first season episode, The Exile.


A First Season story featuring _The Exile_; told from Captain Crane's POV, offering an alternative explanation into his decisions to stay on course to the rendezvous point. See the end of the story for episode credits.

Inspired by the challenge pic, _Broken_, at Seaview Stories website.

**Broken**

by Lynn

Captain Lee Crane awoke startled and immediately sat up, pulling his bent knees close to his chest and resting his arms on his knees. Breathing deeply, he unsuccessfully attempted to shake the nightmare's disturbing images etched deep into his being. Even more troubling to shake, was the very real emotional pain the dream produced; pain so profound he had to remind himself it was only a dream. He sighed and leaned back against his pillow with an arm tucked under his head contemplating the dream; some parts vivid with detail, other parts concealed and veiled. Though just a dream, there was no denying the powerful impact on his emotions as he grappled with the disturbing nightmare.

He should have been able to shake off the dream's images and content, but found himself oddly trying to make sense of it. Perhaps, the hardest issue to dismiss was the dream's poignant revelation that he was responsible for Harry's death, though he didn't know why or how. The veiled parts of the dream were hidden behind a curtain of self-blame and regret; it's only purpose it seemed to taunt him, and yet he oddly found himself needing to understand where he had gone wrong. He forced himself to relive the dream looking for something to glean; something to explain the strong emotions attached to the nightmare that wanted to hang on far into his wakefulness. To this end, he focused on the bulkhead above his bunk, willing back the emotions the dream invoked and actively searching for some valid reason why the dream continued to impact him so profoundly.

_He'd been walking down Seaview's corridors. It was darkened, but not because the sub was simulating nighttime. Indeed, there was something else to the darkness; the heaviness of sorrow, desolation, and anguish. It was as if despair itself had taken up residence in the shadows; its presence so strong he almost expected it to reach out and grab him as he turned the corner to his destination. Out of habit he raised a curled hand to knock, before stopping himself and placing an almost reverent hand on the red placard. He lingered there a moment, feeling the imprint of the name it bore under his fingertips; Admiral Nelson. Taking a deep breath, he withdrew his hand and reached for the doorknob with full knowledge that there was no possibility of disturbing the Admiral now. The thought almost crushed him._

_He stepped into the darkened cabin dimly illuminated by the banker's lamp on the Admiral's desk, its effect barely reaching a foot or two from its origin and casting long, lonely shadows across the deck. Needing no reminders of the room's emptiness, he reached for the light switch. _

_If only things had been different, he thought silently._

_Just what those things were, were currently hidden from him, but in the dream, it made perfect sense. In the dream his feelings of regret were very real; as real as the knowledge that he had let Harriman Nelson down._

_He stepped further into the room, feeling as if the deck itself was hallowed; as if Harry had left an imprint of himself here. He sighed and vowed as long as he was the captain that no one would ever occupy this cabin again. It was a vow made in haste and sorrow he knew, but until Washington and NIMR decided what to do with the private nuclear submarine with Navy Reserve status, he would make this Admiral Nelson's permanent cabin._

_The thought gave him little comfort._

_He stepped toward the desk, running his hand along the corner where he would occasionally perch himself and smiled ever so slightly. He had a habit of sliding his hip on the corner of the desk when their discussions were of the more casual nature, or when they were working through a difficult problem and brainstorming options._

_His smile faded, focusing across the deck to the grim reminder of the empty cabin. Slowly he walked to the bunk where Nelson's uniform was laid out. _

_The Admiral had made clear his final wishes in the event of his death, "A burial at sea and then have all the memorials you want," he had said with his familiar half-smile. This decision shared when the two had been adequately sloshed upon arriving safely home after Seaview ran into an unmapped minefield and had sunk to the bottom. Their daring rescue by Chip Morton and Chief Curly Jones had saved the crew from certain death. Even so, every man aboard Seaview had had adequate time to evaluate their lives as they consumed nearly all their thinning air supply. The ocean could have taken them any number of ways that day, from crushing them with its enormous pressure, to poisoning them with fouled air, to drowning them with weakened frames; but it was the lack of oxygen that had nearly accomplished the unforgiving sea's sentence._

_The burial at sea was a fitting request. Harriman Nelson was an admiral, a genius inventor and tactician, but most all, he was a sailor. Even above all the achievements and many credits to Harry's name, he knew the sea most of all. He shook his head as he considered the deep call of the sea to sailors like himself and Nelson. She was a beautiful siren who had called many sailors to her depths, only to claim them for her own when man's inventions fell short of her powerful strength. Yet, the sea was what Admiral Nelson had chosen for his final resting place. _

_Lee heaved a heavy sigh, his grief needing an outlet in this powerful moment. They had overcome great odds the day Seaview sank, if only… His head lowered and his eyes misted, his regrets pouring out here in the privacy of Harry's cabin, as the "if only's" continued. If only things could have been different on this mission and they could have beaten the odds one more time… If only he could take back his decision… the decision that sealed Admiral Nelson's fate._

_He exhaled a breath laced with sorrowful remorse and reached for the edge of Harry's jacket, fingering the admiral's uniform in an almost hypnotic trance, his hand trembling at the heavy emotions overtaking him. The sorrow was becoming unbearable and all-consuming. He turned quickly for the door, desperate to escape the oppressive darkness closing in all around him. It was as if the air had suddenly been sucked out of the Admiral's cabin to the point that he thought his lungs would burst. _

_He stopped short of rushing out of the cabin, resting his hand on the knob._

"_I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered with his head lowered regretfully and then left, heading straight for the privacy of his own cabin. He only had an hour to pull himself together before he would officiate the ceremony to commit Admiral Harriman Nelson's body to the depths._

# # # # #

Lee wiped the mist from his eyes and sniffed back the strong emotions he had forced himself to relive. The dream was so vivid… so real. How could it _not_ mean something?

He didn't have any answers and the thought of returning to sleep was as unappealing as having a tooth pulled without Novocain. He quickly sat up, ripping off his bed coverings and swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk in one motion. He sat there a moment, rubbing his forehead while attempting to reset his emotions.

Harry _wasn't_ dead and whatever wrong command decision he had made hadn't been revealed in the disturbing dream. He knew he'd been under a lot of pressure lately and determined that is was just a cruel trick his mind played on him, perchance due of the responsibility of bearing the burden of command. Perhaps, it was his subconscious' way of dealing with the fact that every day he made decisions that held the potential for life and death. At any rate, he couldn't live his life afraid of making decisions. It would cripple his effectiveness as a commander and that would be even more damaging than making the wrong decision.

He rubbed his brow then stopped to pinch the bridge of his nose, all the while wondering how he had allowed a simple dream to affect him to this extent. On that thought he stood, took a deep breath, and then made his way to the head. He was awake and much preferred to start his day early rather than sit around contemplating the details of a nonsensical nightmare. With that, he threw himself into his day as captain of the SSRN Seaview.

The intensity of the dream faded as the day wore on, though it lingered far longer than he expected and returned to a lesser degree in the evening when resting in his cabin. It took several days of ignoring the emotions of mourning a death that never happened, before he was finally able to shake off the effects of the nightmare. The dream, thankfully, waned from the forefront of his mind and faded back to the place where unimportant memories abide, until one day… three months later.

# # # # #

"Is everything clear?" Admiral Nelson asked pointedly, adjusting the air tank straps on his shoulders. "You know exactly what you have to do?" he clarified only moments before the mini sub was to be launched.

"Yes," Lee affirmed with a nod. "But I don't like what you've ordered me to do if I don't hear from you by 0200 hours," he added frankly.

"That's my life insurance. Whatever happens, you follow those orders," Harry replied with a tight-lipped smile to reiterate his faith in Seaview's captain.

"Good luck," Crane replied, accepting his duty, though barely concealing his concern.

"Thank you, Lee," Harry returned, as confident in his ability to pull off the dangerous mission as his trust in his captain and friend. He inserted his mouthpiece as the mini sub's cockpit dome was lowered and Lee stepped away.

Harry's attention was now fully focused on attending to the task of launching the miniature submarine as it dropped into the depths, some 100 feet below the surface of the ocean. He had no time to second guess the mission; it was simply a crucial necessity to determine if Brynov's offer was legitimate, or just a hoax in order to gain asylum. The ex-premier was known to be a tyrannical dictator, and as Lee had pointed out earlier, not someone the United States would want to associate with. But the stakes were high; a possible world war hung in the balance according to Brynov, and the information on his microfilm was touted as the means to avert such a war. The question that begged to be answered was could Alexi Brynov be trusted? While no one in Washington seriously considered that he could, the fact that Brynov had narrowly escaped his own execution implied that the man was willing to share information he wouldn't otherwise normally share, in order to secure a safe haven. The fact that his crimes against humanity were known to the US through its own covert sources was of great concern, even if the travesty of his reign was kept hidden by the state-run media of the closed country. Indeed, the US found itself in an awkward position, in that the overthrow of Brynov's government was not entirely unwelcomed news in Washington. The unanswered question however, was whether the new government could be trusted any more than Brynov's regime; and the fact that the exiled premier was touting proof of the new government's intent on world war was too serious to ignore. However, assisting Brynov had the potential to start a war with the new regime in and of itself, and this was the rock and the hard place that Washington found itself in at this critical moment. Their answer was to covertly send in Admiral Harriman Nelson to determine if the microfilm was indeed everything that Brynov promised, or if it was just the last ditch effort of a man trying to escape what many believed to be his well-earned and highly-deserved execution.

With three hours of cruising at the mini-sub's top speed of ten knots per hour, Harry had a lot of time to consider the ramifications surrounding this dangerous mission. He knew Lee was uncomfortable with the mission and his point was well-taken. It was true that if he were caught aboard Brynov's yacht by the Republic's new government as it searched for the escaped ex-dictator, he would be shot as a spy. Even more troublesome than his own death however, was the fact that the war they were trying to avert might just become a reality, with the appearance that the US was attempting to assist the ousted premier. Indeed, the stakes were high.

Harry checked his heading and adjusted his course as the mini-sub glided in the dark depths, illuminated only by the floodlight of his sleek vessel. An occasional school of fish passed by the submersible, seemingly unconcerned with the metal fish among them as he observed radio silence. With the course correction executed his thoughts returned to his preparations as he had accepted the important mission. He was well aware of the danger, and equally so of Lee's concern. It was with both in mind that Harry had come up with his own insurance; _his "life" insurance_, he silently amended. There were a hundred things that could go wrong when dealing with a man like Brynov, and whatever happened, he'd have to be ready for the unexpected.

# # # # #

Lee watched the mini sub as it was lowered into the depths carrying with her a man he'd come to respect deeply. He wasn't thrilled with the dangerous mission, nor Washington's choice to insert Admiral Nelson into such a volatile situation. But he also knew that Harry was no stranger to peril and was as able an ONI operative as a military tactician. His ability to examine the microfilm and determine its legitimacy in a brief amount of time was invaluable, and Lee had to acknowledge that it was a task for which Harry was well-suited.

The mini sub cleared the bay doors and his place was in the Control Room, especially since Seaview was sitting in Republic territorial waters at present. He headed for the hatch leaving the post-launch details to Chief Jones with Curley's raspy voice bellowing out orders behind him.

Lee turned the wheel, sealing the missile room's water-tight hatch behind him and headed back to the Control Room. He was focused on the mission and was well-aware that Seaview was in a precarious position within the Republic's territorial waters, which they considered to be defensible far past the internationally recognized zone of twelve nautical miles. Nodding an unspoken greeting to a passing crewman, he continued down the corridor. He had just turned the corner with the ladder in sight, when the entire corridor shifted at a thirty-degree angle. Listing heavily, he reached for the wall to steady himself only to realize that it wasn't the corridor that had shifted but rather, his perception. That realization was followed by a disconnected state as the line between dreams and reality blurred. Inexplicably, he realized that he wasn't on the lower deck heading for the ladder any longer, but in the corridor of Officer's Country. His mind accepted his new surroundings with no self-questioning or realization that anything was amiss. Finding himself a full participant in the vision, his goal was no longer to reach the Control Room, but to continue onto his new destination. Suddenly, he was fast forwarded to the Admiral's cabin where his hand was raised to announce his arrival. An overwhelming sorrow overcame him at the absurdity of completing his habit of knocking before entering, knowing full-well that the Admiral wasn't in his cabin and would never occupy it again. He lowered his head and rested a regretful hand on the placard bearing Nelson's name. Just as instantly as the vision had engulfed him; he was released back to the lower deck's corridor where he stood confused and disoriented.

Lee blinked and shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the hazy after-affects. Though the vision was only a flash, it had left behind a full load of sorrow and regret; the experience as powerful as it was inexplicable. He drew in a deep breath and blew it out, rubbing his temple in the process; then drew a shaky hand across his mouth. The _vision_, for lack of a better word, had placed him right back into the nightmare he had experience over three months ago. He had relived it to the smallest detail as fresh as if it were yesterday, complete with a return of the overwhelming, daunting emotions of mourning and regret for the ill-fated order he'd given in the nightmare that had sealed Harry's fate.

He raised a shaky hand to his brow and massaged his forehead then took a deep breath in, releasing the adrenaline charge that the vision had invoked. _Perhaps, it was a possible flashback triggered by Harry's dangerous mission,_ he reasoned silently before straightening and resuming his trek to the Control Room. Whatever the source of the vision, now wasn't the time to be off his game; not when Seaview was still sitting in Republic territorial waters with a rendezvous to make.

By the time he reached the Control Room, he had successfully stowed away the strong emotions the vision had evoked. Any questions he might have concerning the vision itself would have to wait until Seaview was safe and the Admiral was back aboard.

"Status, Mr. Morton," he inquired, walking past the Inertial navigator towards the chart table.

"The mini sub has sufficiently cleared the boat and is on course to rendezvous with the yacht."

"Very well, ahead one-third."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Chip answered, reaching for the mic. "Engine room; ahead one-third."

"Sonar," Lee said, turning directly behind him, "What does it look like up there?"

"Three contacts, Sir. The yacht," he answered, pointing to the blip a mile away, "and two large surface vessels about ten miles out," Kowalski clarified.

"Hydrophones," he addressed turning toward Patterson across the deck. "What do you make of the contacts?"

"Heavy propellers, Sir; could be cargo vessels," he speculated, "but I'd put my money on destroyers."

"So would I," Lee agreed reaching for the mic. "All hands, silent running," he ordered then shipped the mic.

"What do you think, Lee?" Chip asked, leaning in close to keep their conversation private.

"They're no doubt looking for Brynov," he replied, keeping to himself his distrust of the ex-Premier and his intentions. "It's pretty soupy out there, and it looks like they're heading away from the yacht. Let's just hope the fog holds out long enough for them to clear territorial waters."

Chip shook his head and grimaced. "That would be bad news for the Admiral."

"I know, if he's caught on board, he'll be shot as a spy," Lee replied, his concern evident.

"Sir," Patterson called in a whisper, holding a hand to his earpiece to focus his analysis.

"What do you have?" Lee asked closing the distance.

"The destroyers are on the move, Sir," he answered, his report sending Crane across the deck to the sonar station.

"Where are the contacts, Sonar?"

"They've just corrected their course and are heading straight for the yacht at top speed, Sir."

Lee swung back to the chart table and grabbed up the mic. "Secure Silent Running," he ordered. "Depth: sixty feet; come to course zero-five-three; flank speed," he ordered. "We're going to give those destroyers a target they can't resist," Lee said quickly looking over the charts. "With any luck, the yacht will slip past in the confusion."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Chip replied, seeing to the orders and then turning back to Lee. "At their current speed, they'll intercept the yacht in ten minutes."

"I know, but Seaview's faster than they are, and all we need to do is get their attention," he answered. "Sonar, sing out as soon as they change course," he ordered over his shoulder while reaching for the mic.

"Aye Sir," Kowalski answered.

"Missile Room, this is the Captain."

"Chief Jones here, Sir."

"Curley, get a couple of wrenches going and bang around down there. Let's give those destroyers something to chase."

"Aye, aye, Skipper," the familiar gruff voice replied.

"Hydrophones?" Lee queried.

"It should be ringing loud and clear over there, Skipper," he stopped to shake his head and lower his earpiece, "if they can't hear that, they need to fire their hydrophones man, Sir."

Lee acknowledged with a nod, then turned his attention to the chart in front of him.

"Mr. Morton, time to intercept on present course?"

"Five minutes, Captain," he answered then lowering his voice to add, "We're getting in awful close, Lee," he cautioned with Seaview and the two destroyers converging toward each other at their top speeds.

"Both contacts changing course, Captain," Ski sounded off.

"Left rudder, turn to course one-seven-five," Lee ordered readily, drawing a fast line on the sea chart in front of him.

"One-seven-five, aye," Chip responded. "That's deeper in their territorial waters, Lee," he whispered.

"Yes, but we have to draw them away from the yacht, and just importantly, from the rendezvous point. Report, Sonar!" he ordered with the mic ready in his hand, and knowing that he'd just set Seaview up as one-big-fat-target if he didn't play his hand just right.

"They're matching our heading, Sir."

"They'll be on top of us any minute, Lee," Chip informed.

"All hands, secure all water-tight compartments," Lee ordered, not wanting to sound General Quarters with the klaxons giving away their location. "Chip, depth keel to bottom?"

"150 feet."

"Not much room to play," Lee lamented. "Take us down to 100 feet."

"100 feet, aye."

The order had just been issued when the boat rocked violently as the ocean churned with repeated explosions, sending everyone without a hand-hold to one side of the deck and then the other.

"Depth charges! Hold fast, men," Lee encouraged, "this is going to a rough ride!"

"100 feet," Chip reported.

"Level off," he ordered crossing the deck just as another depth charge exploded about twenty feet above them. "It'll take another twenty minutes to get out of their territorial waters, until then there's nothing we can do but take it."

Chip acknowledged with a nod as he scanned the Control Room then raised the mic. "Damage Control, report."

"_Frame 20 flooding; leaks in frames four, five, and six; repairs underway,"_ was relayed over the com system.

"We've got to make a run for it," Chip urged with a grimace for their precarious situation.

"We can't risk leading those destroyers to the Admiral," Lee replied, dividing his attention as he calculated their new heading. "We'll run and double back," he countered decidedly while unceremoniously retrieving the mic from Chip's hand. "Engine Room, this is the Captain. All ahead Full. Heading two-zero-zero," he ordered Seaview's Exec as he shipped the mic.

"Aye Sir."

Lee scanned the situation lights, taking in the boat's status in a glance as another depth charge exploded. A quick look at the sea chart confirmed that they would soon be in deeper waters where Seaview might be able to elude the destroyers. He could only hope that an exploding depth charge didn't find them first.

"Captain! Transmission from the Admiral," Sparks called from the Radio Shack.

"Steady as she goes, Mr. Morton," he ordered as he made his way back to Spark's domain, holding onto the periscope island rails to steady himself along the way. Sparks was waiting with the mic when he arrived.

"Admiral," he answered not wasting any time just as another charge exploded.

"_What's your situation, Lee?"_ Nelson inquired with concern after hearing the obvious explosion.

"Depth charges; we've got a couple of destroyers on our tail."

"_Are you still in territorial waters?"_ the Admiral asked, his voice tense at the sound of Seaview in peril, as well as a hint of confusion that Seaview hadn't cleared the dangerous waters yet.

"Yes, we had to double back so we wouldn't lead them to the rendezvous."

"_When you reach the open sea, proceed to the rendezvous,"_ the Admiral ordered. _"We'll meet you there in six hours; over and out."_

Lee steadied himself against the relentless explosions rattling Seaview with each detonation, then headed back to the chart table. Harry's intention to proceed to the rendezvous point with Byrnov indicated that the microfilm was valid. Subsequently, the rendezvous meant more than just the Admiral's safe return, it signaled vital intelligence that held the potential of stopping the next world war. He needed to lose the destroyers and double back, to do that he needed Seaview ready to run. He reached the chart table and snagged up the mic.

"Damage Control, report."

"_Inertial Navigation and Radar are damaged."_

Lee's cheek twitched at the unwelcomed report. "How long will it take to get them working?"

"_Hard to tell; three or four hours, at least."_

"Get on it right away. We need them to get to the rendezvous," Lee urged, his insistency signaling the vital nature of the order.

"_Yes, sir."_

Another explosion accentuated that order causing Lee to activate the mic again.

"Engine Room, more speed!"

"_Propeller shafts are running hot, they could burn out."_*

"If we don't get out of here, there may be nothing left to _burn out_. Keep pushing them!"

"_Aye, aye, Sir."_

Lee leaned against the chart table studying the sea charts as the bombardment of charges relentlessly shook the sub, testing her soundness with each subsequent explosion. It had been the right decision to draw the destroyers away from the yacht. With any luck, she would slip away in the opposite direction without detection. Once Seaview reached the open ocean, he would dive to deeper waters and double back to the rendezvous point. Even with the delay, he expected to reach the designated point before the slower moving yacht. That was the plan, but it all depended on his ability to navigate the sub, and for that he needed the Inertial Navigator.

"Chip, stay on top of things here. I'm going to check on DC's progress."

"Aye, aye, Skipper," he replied as Lee headed out the side hatch.

# # # # #

Sporadic explosions continued to litter the surrounding waters, causing Seaview to shudder and occasionally rocking the boat as he moved hastily toward the Circuitry Room, where the Inertial Navigator Relay Station was housed. He passed DC crewmen, soaking wet from shoring up leaks and stopped LT O'Brien for a report.

"How's it looking, Bobby?" he asked, taking the time to learn the condition of his vessel.

"Frame 20 is sealed," the young officer responded, "and the leaks in four, five, and six are secure. I have men watching them, but they'll hold, Skipper," he assured.

"Good job, Bobby. Who's got repairs in the Circuitry Room?"

"Chief Jones and Malone have it covered, Sir."

"Very well, carry on," Lee said with a reassuring pat to his shoulder before continuing towards the Circuitry Room.

He took the ladder down a deck when another depth charge rattled the boat, this time evoking a rather steep list, which immediately corrected itself with a corresponding list to the opposite side sending Lee crashing against the bulkhead. All of the sudden, he was back at the point of the vision he had experienced earlier, attempting to find his footing with a thirty-degree list. The vision replayed itself, with Lee fast forwarded back to the Admiral's cabin with a mournful and regret-filled Captain Crane stopping his knock in mid-motion and then placing a sorrowful hand across the placard bearing Nelson's name. Another rock in the other direction woke him from the vision as he was slammed hard against the opposite bulkhead once again where he fell to the deck, dazed from the vision as much as the hard hit.

"Skipper!" O'Brien yelled, descending down the ladder and seeing Seaview's Captain slow to rise from the deck.

"I'm okay," Lee assured after Bobby helped him to his feet. "I'm fine, get going," he ordered, urging O'Brien to continue with the Damage Control duties.

Lee took a few steps and then stopped to massage his brow when he was alone again. This was _not_ the time to be having visions… flashbacks… or _whatever_ this waking nightmare turned out to be. He straightened himself and moved on, in both his resolve to ignore the strange event and his need to reach the Circuitry Room.

A few minutes later he reached his destination, finding Chief Jones and Malone knee-deep in circuitry in front of an open panel.

"What does it look like, Curley?" he asked, crouching to get a better view.

"The radar was easy, just a little soldering; but this is a mess, Skipper," the burley Chief lamented in his familiar husky voice.

"I _need_ the Inertial Navigator, Chief. The Admiral is counting on us being at the rendezvous and I can't shoot the stars with destroyers down my back," he urged, laying it all on the line for the experienced COB.

"We'll get her done, Skipper," Curley assured, his resolve clear in both his voice and his battle-hardened face.

"Thanks, Curley. Do you need any additional manpower?"

"Negative, Skipper. This is a two-man job, anyone else would just be in the way," he explained while Malone continued working in the tight quarters of the small access panel.

"Very well, I'll leave you men to it," he replied with complete faith in their ability to pull off the repair. Lee left the Circuitry Room convinced the repair was in good hands, when it dawned on him that he hadn't felt so much as a shudder in the last few minutes.

"_Captain Crane,"_ Lee heard over the com system, and hastened his steps to the mic hanging on the bulkhead.

"This is Crane."

"_We've reached open waters, Captain."_

"Very well, I'll be right there," he replied, shipping the mic. He turned to make his way to the Control Room, but was instantly caught in another vision, suddenly finding himself standing in the Admiral's cabin without any transition. Beside him were the Admiral's clothes, laid out for his burial. A heavy mournful mood hung thick over his existence as he realized that it was _his_ order that had sealed the Admiral's fate. Regret, guilt, and grief threatened to crush his spirit completely before he was, just as suddenly, released from its gripping hold back into the here and now. His knees nearly buckled as he steadied himself against the bulkhead, recovering from the both physically and emotionally draining event. Taking a deep breath, he pushed off the wall and proceeded to the Control Room, working with every step forward to push down the vision's accusation that it was _his_ order that had caused Harriman Nelson's death.

# # # # #

"Status, Mr. Morton," Lee inquired as soon as he entered the Control Room.

"We're in international waters; depth is 100 feet; running at Full, Sir."

"The destroyers?" he asked moving up to the chart table.

"They're still up there," Chip replied, glancing upwards as a muted ping was heard bouncing off the hull, "and using active sonar to keep track of us, they stopped dropping depth charges as soon we cleared the disputed territorial waters."

Lee acknowledged with a slight nod as he studied the charts. "We're going to have to stay on this course until we lose them. Present position?"

"About here," he replied, pointing with his pencil, having made an educated guess with the Inertial Navigator still out of commission.

"Sonar, where's the bottom?" he inquired, turning toward Kowalski.

"520 feet, Sir."

Lee nodded and turned back toward the chart, confirming their position. "Take us down to 200 feet, Chip."

"Aye. Reduce speed?" he asked, pointing toward the topography indicating sea mounts ahead on their present course.

"Negative, the quicker we lose the destroyers, the quicker we can resume our course to the rendezvous."

"Lee..." Chip leaned in to question.

"I'm aware of the terrain, Chip. Post a couple of look-outs in the Observation Deck," Lee interrupted, not threatened by Chip's concern; though the chain of command was non-debatable, it was prudent for a Captain to allow a reasonable amount of enquiry from his XO.

"Aye, aye, Skipper."

Lee turned to the Sonar station directly behind him. "Ski, keep me informed with what our friends up there are doing," he instructed before heading across the deck to hydrophones. "Everything quiet up there, Patterson?"

"Aye Sir

# # # # #

Diving to 200 feet, a hundred feet deeper than where the destroyers had last pinged them, had produced the desired effect as Seaview slipped past their radar. Lee navigated by dead reckoning, adjusting for currents and using the seabed topography to verify the boat's position. They'd been traveling at full for two hours, moving further away from their pursuers and subsequently, the rendezvous point.

"_Control Room,"_ Curley's voice was heard over the boat com.

"Crane here."

"_Repairs to the Inertial Navigator are complete, Skipper."_

"Very well, Chief, and well-done," he replied with a satisfied breath of relief as he shipped the mic. "Chip, verify our position."

"Aye Sir," Morton answered, returning a moment later with a printout. "Right here, Skipper," he answered, pointing at the sea chart and silently marveling at how close their actual position was to Lee's dead reckoning.

"All Stop, Mr. Morton," Lee ordered, completely ignoring the seamanship of his dead-reckoning for the extraordinary navigational feat it was.

"Engine Room, all-stop," Chip repeated as Lee crossed the deck.

"Are you picking up anything on the hydrophones, Patterson?"

"Nothing. We lost them, Captain," Pat answered with a small grin of satisfaction and pride.

Lee returned the sentiment with a smile that was promptly interrupted by an announcement from Sparks.

"_Captain, there's a lot of activity on the radio. The Baltica's been sunk."_

The reality of the yacht's sinking set in fast as Lee's countenance quickly changed to concern. "Any more word?" he inquired.

"_Just that they're searching for survivors."_

The weight of Spark's statement weighed heavily on everyone in the Control Room, not the least of whom was Seaview's Captain.

"I'll get our position and alter course," Chip stated, assuming they would join the search for Harry and the survivors.

"No!" Lee countered with more emotion than he intended, before making a concerted effort to rein it in. "We're under orders, we'll proceed to rendezvous coordinates."

"But Captain…" Chip questioned, intending to remind him just what was at stake.

"If the Admiral is still alive and able, he'll make it to the rendezvous," Lee explained, steadfast in his decision even if it was an obviously difficult one.

"What if they pick him up first?" Chip persisted, risking crossing a very thin line in Control Room protocol to express his opinion.

"They're in the area; we're two hundred miles away. There's nothing we can do," Lee added, expecting that his First Officer would succumb to the logic of his decision.

"They'll shoot him as a spy," Chip pressed, raising his voice and uncharacteristically challenging the Captain's decision.

"You don't have to remind me of that, _Mr. Morton_," Lee countered heatedly, ending the discussion with both his tone and his next orders. "Set course for the rendezvous coordinates."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Chip replied tersely, his position in the matter having been made and with no recourse left to him, going all-Navy in his cold response.

Lee picked up the pencil at the chart table and busied himself with a course he had already worked and reworked several times in the last several hours. He noted the orders given and the subsequent course correction but never raised his head to verify; he knew that Chip was following orders despite his personal reservations. It didn't happen often, but the familiarity of their close friendship had worked its way past Navy decorum, resulting in Control Room drama that he didn't need right now.

Though he hadn't appreciated Chip's relentlessness in the matter, he was aware that his friend had a lot of history with the Admiral, having served as his aide at the Pentagon, as well as serving a vital role in the building of Seaview. He could understand his concern to a certain point. Harriman Nelson was an extraordinary man; a mentor, and a friend who was as close as a brother. But as much as he could understand Chip's feelings, he needed his First Officer to be just that, and to follow his orders as given.

He also didn't need a second accuser; he was already privately working to separate the emotions the visions had elicited from the real-life situation. His duty was clear; he had direct orders, and logic also dictated that he was following the right course of action, despite the vision's accusation that _he_ had caused Harry's death. The thought persisted, even though he had pushed it as far back into his mind as he was able. He resisted wearily rubbing the back of his neck and hardened his resolve to do his job. He was the captain, and it was up to him to set the tone for his officers, so he ignored the confrontation and concentrated on getting Seaview to the rendezvous point.

# # # # #

The mood in the Control Room remained tense, as the reality of the yacht's destruction set in. Sparks had been monitoring the radio and so far, no survivors had been pulled from the sea. Several bodies had been retrieved, but there was no indication that either Brynov or Admiral Nelson had been found. Lee could only take that as good news at this point. Harry was a fighter and had survived the sea's fury on more than one occasion. He knew that if anyone could make it to the rendezvous it was Harriman Nelson. Perhaps, he had even escaped into the Mini Sub, though he thought that was unlikely as Harry would have used the radio by now.

He made a slow circuit around the Control Room with his last thought weighing heavily upon his mind. He and Chip had conversed, but only for matters regarding Seaview. They were both professionals, but the easy-going tone that the crew had come to expect from the command crew was noticeably missing. He returned to the chart table and calculated their ETA for the fifteenth time when he experienced a flash vision, suddenly transported to the Admiral's cabin once again where he received a full-download of regret, along with the realization that it was _his_ order… his _decision_ that had sealed Harry's death. Instantly, the flash vision ended and he was back in the control room leaning heavily against the chart table. He blinked and swallowed, then glanced to see if anyone had noticed his distraught state. Grateful that no one had noticed and desperately needing to recover in private, he headed for the forward curtain.

"Captain?" Chip called, crossing the deck and apparently picking up on his best friend's distress.

"I'll be in the Observation Lounge if you need me," he answered coldly, trying to avoid any discussions at this point.

Chip stepped in closer, softening his tone in concern. "Are you all right, Lee?" he whispered discreetly.

"I'm fine. Tend to your duties, Mr. Morton," he snapped back quiet enough to keep their conversation private, but his stinging rebuke had done its intended job of stopping Chip in his tracks. He proceeded through the curtain and hurried down the spiral steps into the Observation Lounge, where the officer monitoring the boat's functions acknowledged the captain with a nod and then returned his attention to his station.

Lee walked slowly to the bow, stopping directly in front of Seaview's windows. He hadn't intended on snapping at Chip, but the vision had taken him by surprise; even worse, affecting him in the Control Room. He gazed aimlessly into the deep, dark sea, currently illuminated only as far as Seaview's floodlights could reach.

_Harry was out there somewhere… perhaps he was alive, _he considered, _and here he was, hundreds of miles away from the yacht's wreckage and any possible survivors. _

Never before had he experienced the heavy burden of command as much as he did at this very moment as he considered whether the nightmare of three months ago and its subsequent visions today, could actually be some sort of forewarning? Some sort of premonition? The vision in the Control Room had left the strongest imprint yet fueling the accusation that it was _his_ decision that had sealed Harry's fate; but was the vision's outcome a prediction or foreshadowing of the future, or just one possible outcome? He raised a weary hand to rub his eyes, careful not to show too much angst with a crewman stationed a few feet behind him.

_Get ahold of yourself, Crane,_ he silently admonished himself. _Every decision you've made has been both by the book and logical._ As Captain, he had to keep his eyes on the mission's objective, and not just think like a man whose best friend was missing and possibly lost at sea. Harry's mission had the potential to stop a world war if the Republic's new leadership did indeed have such plans, but America was in a very dangerous diplomatic dilemma. Just meeting with the ousted Premier could be considered an act of war; or at the very least, make all diplomatic means deemed untrustworthy by the new leadership, thereby escalating the dangers of a cold war. So, his decision _not_ to return to the yacht was the right military decision to make. Furthermore, he was under orders. _How simple could that be?_ Harry felt so strongly about his order to proceed to the rendezvous point that he called it his "insurance". Lastly, it made no logical sense to believe that Seaview could rush back 200 miles to the point of the accident and find Harry faster than the Republic's naval resources, less than twenty miles from their own territorial waters.

He blew a slow, cleansing breath out at the comfort that returning to logic had brought him, only to have Chip's own words drive him back to the point of despair.

"_They'll shoot him as a spy!"_

Another flash vision enveloped him, shaking him to his core, as a vision of Harry's cabin transitioned back to the ocean pressing against Seaview's windows. It had only been for a moment, but the mournful regret downloaded once again, reminding him that it was _his_ _decision_; whether good or bad; sound or reckless, hadn't been revealed. He was left to ponder whether doing the right thing by following orders, and pursuing what made logical sense, was entirely the wrong thing to do this time. Casually, he slid his hands into his pockets to hide their slight shake as he now considered whether the visions were warning him to consider that following orders wasn't the right course of action this time? After all, how many times in his career had he had to weigh orders against good sense? Lee pursed his lips, barely avoiding shaking his head as he waded through the unfamiliar territory of self-doubt. It was true; he'd bucked orders before, following either logic or his gut feelings; but he had always _believed_ in those decisions.

_Enough!_ he chided himself lowering his gaze through Seaview's windows in thought. Orders, coupled with the chain of command, are necessary to ensure that an individual's whim didn't get in the way of a mission's objectives. He _believed_ in the system; it had served both him and the US Navy well in the past. Furthermore, he believed he'd made the right decision to carry-on to the rendezvous point, where Harry fully expected him be. The only difference this time, compared to all the other life and death decisions he'd had to make in his career, was the dream and its visions. Unless the unexplained visions offered something more than regret for an unknown choice, he would have to go on making his decisions as he always did, taking any deviation from his orders only with careful consideration and overwhelming facts on his side.

He raised his head to stare straight out the windows, feeling his confidence return and the demons of the nightmare receding. Another deep cleansing breath and he knew it was time to resume his presence in the Control Room.

# # # # #

"We're approaching rendezvous coordinates, Captain," Chip reported in proper military decorum but lacking the ease of their normal interactions in the noticeably missing "Skipper".

"Very well, when we reach the coordinates, we'll go to periscope depth."

"Yes Sir," his response clearly indicating that he was giving the Captain a wide berth in the Control Room.

Even though Chip had pushed a little too far earlier, it was the harsh rejection of his true concern for Lee's well-being that had created this rift between them. They were both men of action whose feelings didn't need to be coddled with every hurt feeling, but he also knew that he relied on Chip's observations, even when they occasionally misaligned with his. That lack of communication could be a hindrance if the Exec didn't feel free to speak. It was up to him course-correct the tone in the Control Room, and he knew that his friend deserved an apology; not for correcting Chip when he stepped over the line, but for dismissing the sincere concern of his good friend.

"Chip," Lee called as his First Officer turned to leave.

"Yes Sir," his reply respectful but lacking the warmth their years of friendship had earned.

Lee blew out an audible breath. "I'm sorry I blew up," he offered graciously.

"I understand, Lee," Chip replied, humbling himself as well, and knowing full-well that his captain and friend was equally concerned about Harry. "How long do you think it will take the Admiral to reach the coordinates?" he asked, hoping that Lee knew something that he didn't about how one survives a catastrophic event aboard a ship, and then miraculously finds his way to coordinates hundreds of miles from his last known position.

"I don't know. All we can do is wait," Lee answered.

"And hope," Chip replied, not quite able to keep the concern from his voice.

It had been an honest answer, though not the one his best friend had apparently needed. Regardless, Lee's resolve wasn't shaken; he had faced his demons and he knew what he had to do… stay the course, knowing that if anyone could beat the odds to survive, it was Admiral Harriman Nelson.

# # # # #

Lee tore the paper from the computer and after confirming their present position, headed to the Sonar Station.

"Anything, Ski?"

The trusted seaman shook his head regretfully. "Nothing so far, Skipper."

"Very well. Keep a sharp eye out, just in case the Admiral was able to secure the Mini Sub."

"Aye Sir," he acknowledged, determined to not miss a single blip on his screen as Lee headed to the periscope.

"Up periscope," he ordered, not waiting for the periscope to reach its full height before resting his forehead against the viewer and searching the surface. He scanned the sea, turning the periscope and searching for any indication of Harry; more than likely he was looking for a small raft which might possibly elude sonar.

"Any sign of them yet?" Chip asked.

Lee started to respond, his disappointment held in check by the fact that lifeboats were rarely equipped with motors and that there were many factors to consider that could delay their arrival. His response however, was interrupted by Spark's weather report.

"_Storm front reported, moving in from westerly direction, Captain."_

Lee grimaced at the bad news; Harry had thought out these coordinates very carefully, taking into account known ocean currents and prevailing winds; a storm would change all of that.

"If they're still in the water… that could be bad," Chip noted, stating the obvious but careful to not overstep the boundaries once again.

"Maybe they're on this side of it," Lee answered optimistically, not ready to give up on the plan. They were already here at the rendezvous coordinates, _exactly_ where Harry could be struggling to reach at this very moment. He had to give the Admiral more time. He leaned into the periscope and continued searching the waters above, missing Chip's raised brow and near eye-roll. Though he managed to bite his tongue, it was apparent that he was struggling with Lee's stubbornness to not investigate the possibility that the weather could have blown the Admiral off-course.

# # # # #

Lee walked another slow circuit around the Control Room. Neither Hydrophones nor Sonar had offered as much as a tiny glimmer of hope that they were on the right track. A whole day had passed since they'd arrived at the rendezvous point, and he was finding the Admiral's delay disturbing; especially, taking into account Seaview's roundabout route while avoiding the Republic's Navy.

He returned to the Chart Table and studied the charts marked with updated sea currents and prevailing winds. _If Harry had indeed been caught on this side of the storm, then he should have arrived by now_, he reasoned.

"Lee…" Chip said quietly, ready to make a case for a search pattern.

"I know, Chip," he interrupted still in thought and staring at the chart, before nodding to himself and making his decision. "We'll search outward in a fifty-mile spiral from the coordinates. I don't want to risk him passing by us and reaching the coordinates while we're a couple hundred miles away," he ordered decisively; his decision as logical and methodical as his original insistence that they stay on course.

"Yes Sir," Seaview's Exec replied, relieved with Lee's decision and ready to carry out the Captain's order.

"Stay sharp, men," Lee instructed the crew. "We don't want to miss any possible clues of the Admiral's whereabouts if he was blown off-course."

A chorus of "Aye sirs," followed as Seaview's crew tended their stations with due earnest.

He returned to the Chart Table and reached for the drafting compass to draw a perfect circle with a diameter of fifty miles. With Seaview at the center, she was capable of detecting objects within a 25 miles radius; a spiral search would systematically widen the search zone.

"Everyone's on their toes, Lee," Chip encouraged.

"Thanks, Chip," Lee acknowledged with a slight nod, concentrating on the Control Room and listening for any indication that Harry had survived the yacht's destruction and successfully navigated hundreds of miles in the middle of a storm. "Report as soon as the first pass is completed," he added, returning his attention to the charts before him in deep concentration and calculating the first pass to take a little over three hours, with each subsequent pass taking longer as the radius increased. It was a tedious but orderly search that required both patience and diligence.

"Aye, aye, Skipper," Morton affirmed, continuing his attentive oversight of the Control Room functions.

Lee calculated and recalculated the effects of the weather on the surface, taking into account the possible direction Harry would have sailed and how the storm might have affected his route to the rendezvous point. All the while, Harry's words kept playing in his mind regarding the rendezvous.

"_That's my life insurance. Whatever happens, you follow those orders."_

He shook off the thought. This was the next logical step, though he still had some valid reservations; namely the fact that a spiral search pattern's effectiveness degrades as the search area expands. Indeed, he was fully aware that it was possible for a target to enter a previously searched area after the zone widened. Therefore, it was imperative that he calculate the most likely route the seas might take Harry's craft off-course.

He finished the calculations and checked his watch, feeling the pressure of each unsuccessful pass of the spiral search. As he reached for the straight-edge he was hit by a sudden and unexpected shift in reality once again. Quickly, he reached for the edge of the chart table and held on firmly, attempting to ground himself in the here and now. He could feel an almost dual existence, with his right hand raised to knock on the Admiral's cabin door once again, while simultaneously feeling his left hand holding the chart table. Concentrating intensely, he focused on the feel of the chart table grasped in his hand, until the vision's hold released him and the sounds of the Control Room broke through. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and blinked. Every fiber of his being wanted to bolt from the Control Room as he had done before, but he ignored the powerful urge and stubbornly stood his ground, refusing to allow the unexplained phenomena to render him ineffective. Another breath out and he dared to lessen his hold on the chart table, relishing privately in the small victory of not losing himself to the vision once again.

Ready to move on, he took in a deep breath and reached for the straight-edge, determined to power past the lingering accusation of the recurring vision. Three months ago, he could dismiss the dream as an unfortunate nightmare. But now, with two decisions before him and Harry's life weighing in the balance, could he afford to ignore the vision's warning?

He leaned both hands against the top of the chart table and stared absently across the deck, before standing straight again, actively taking control of the situation. He couldn't allow the nightmare to dictate his actions, especially given that it had failed to even reveal the nature of the wrong decision. _Whatever decision he made, he would have to live with it._ Strangely, the last thought brought him a small measure of peace, in that he trusted his skills as both a commander and a sailor. Without that confidence he didn't deserve to be Seaview's Captain, and he had no intention of being anything else.

# # # # #

"We're entering our next pass, Lee," Chip informed regarding the painstaking search now into its tenth hour.

"Very well," he replied, measuring to draw the next encompassing circle. A red X marked an area just outside the circle indicating the most probable area the storm might have taken a small craft off-course. He continued to study the new search pattern, his pencil still in place even after he had completed the circle.

"He could still be out there," Chip encouraged, noticing Lee's introspection.

"I know, but I still can't shake the feeling that he's not there," Lee replied with a nod toward the red X.

"Your calculations are good, Lee. It makes the most sense of all," Chip differed quietly. "He wasn't at the rendezvous point, which means that if he's still alive, he was blown off-course by the storm."

Lee tilted his head discreetly towards the forward curtain separating the Control Room from the spiral staircase leading down into the Observation Lounge. Chip understood the unspoken order and followed Lee through the curtains, where he stopped just short of the staircase.

"It will take another five hours to make the next pass," Lee said quietly, "we're already hundreds of miles from the rendezvous point and that will put us out even further," explaining a decision he knew Chip would find hard to understand, but obviously giving his First Officer the opportunity to speak freely away from the Control Room.

"He's a sailor, Lee. He survived the Neptune disaster by using a _t-shirt_ as a sail," Chip countered, arguing Harry's ability to weather the storm.

"That's just my point. If he's still alive and is able to sail, he'll head straight for the rendezvous."

"Lee…"

"You don't need to agree with me, Chip. Just follow my orders. We're heading back to the rendezvous point," he issued decisively; though he'd been gracious to have this conversation out of respect for their friendship as much as the valuable insight his First Officer might offer, his decision as captain had now been made.

"Aye, aye, Skipper," Chip answered respectfully, but leaning in to add one more word of caution for his friend and captain to consider. "But if you're wrong…"

"If I'm wrong, then my decision may seal the Admiral's fate and I'll have to live with that; but I have to give him every chance for survival by being _exactly_ where he told me to be. He called it his _insurance_, Chip. The rendezvous point is where he's fighting to get to right now, and Seaview is going to be there waiting for him," he replied resolutely, turning back for the Control Room and leaving behind any indecisiveness left by the vision's impact.

# # # # #

Lee headed straight for the chart table and reached for the straight edge. "Turn us about, Mr. Morton," he ordered making a quick calculation before continuing. "Set a course for the rendezvous point, full speed ahead," he finished, tearing off the coordinates and handing them over.

"Aye, aye, Sir," Chip replied without hesitation, despite any personal reservations he might have had about abandoning the search, fully aware that the time for discussion was over and giving the Captain's order the respect both his rank and experience deserved.

Lee walked a slow circuit around the Control Room, intensely focused on the sub's activities before stopping at Sonar. He studied the screen over Kowalski's shoulder when the familiar sensation of the vision's approach suddenly enveloped him once again. He tightened his grip on the back of Ski's chair and concentrated, even as the unwanted images intruded once again. Shortened and condensed elements of the vision flashed before his eyes in rapid succession; the regretful knock on the Admiral's door; the overwhelming sense of loss as he entered the empty cabin; the devastating regret when he realized that his decision caused Harry's death, before releasing him back to the Control Room.

The entire episode had taken only a few seconds, but as before, they'd left behind the emotional baggage of the accusation. Determined to hold on to his rightful place in the Control Room, he pushed the images from the forefront of his mind and concentrated on his duty to Seaview and the crew. Gradually, the soft beeps of sonar joined the familiar hums of normal operations in the Control Room. Focusing on the Sonar screen, he lessened his hold on the chair just as Chip arrived.

"We should be within sonar range in three hours," he reported, handing Lee the printout from the Nav Computer.

"Very well," Lee replied, now fully grounded and turning back toward the chart. Quickly, he rechecked his calculations and then studied the pencil line marking their current position to the rendezvous point, when it suddenly dawned on him. The visions had served no purpose; except perhaps, to leave self-doubt. They had manifested themselves at all of the points of decision he'd made, without it seemed, regard to which direction he took. Whatever the impetus behind the original nightmare and its subsequent visions, they seemed to emphasize that no matter the decision, there was a very real potential to be wrong. He let out a slow and controlled breath, realizing that this wasn't a new revelation to any commanding officer, let alone a submarine captain. It was simply the burden of command. Every decision he'd made thus far had been based upon experience and knowledge, seasoned appropriately by his gut feelings when necessary. It was a formula which had served him well in the past and one he knew he could trust.

Whatever the final result of his decisions made these past few days, he was confident that he'd made the right decision for each circumstance as it was presented. That was all the burden of command could expect of him… and all he could expect of himself.

# # # # #

"Skipper?" Kowalski called from sonar, a little over three hours after Seaview had abandoned the spiral search to return to the rendezvous point.

"What is it, Ski?" Lee inquired with interest, crossing the deck quickly and leaning over the operator's shoulder as he viewed a screen currently clear of any contacts.

"It was there a minute ago, Sir," the seaman replied, furrowing his forehead as he adjusted the equipment.

"What did you see?" Lee pursued, trusting the capabilities of Seaview's best sonar operator.

"It was a faint contact, like a flash reading and… well, it looked like a small surface vessel."

Lee continued to watch the green-hued screen, reaching over and adjusting the equipment as he scrutinized the spiral sweep of the echo-based technology. A moment later, a faint contact registered on the outer edge of their range.

"There!" Ski noted as it disappeared once again.

"I saw it," Lee confirmed, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he adjusted the knob until the contact appeared again. "Coordinates, Kowalski," he ordered.

Ski made a quick evaluation and then smiled. "Right smack dab in the middle of the rendezvous coordinates, Skipper," he delivered with more levity than was usual for the Control Room.

Lee placed an affirming hand on Ski's shoulder, then turned back to the chart table. "Flank speed, Mr. Morton," he ordered, checking his watch and anticipating eighteen minutes to intercept. While the news was promising, he wasn't ready to celebrate just yet; not until he knew for sure that it was Harry and that he was still alive.

# # # # #

"All stop," Lee ordered, stepping up to the periscope island as Chip raised the periscope, correctly anticipating the Captain's order. He turned clockwise, nearly completing 360 degrees before stopping abruptly and refocusing. "Small vessel off the port side," he announced, folding the arms, "Down periscope. Surface, Mr. Morton."

"Aye, aye, Skipper," Chip replied, ordering all the ballast tanks blown of sea water and planes raised 10 degrees before stepping next to Crane. "You were right, Lee," he said quietly, acknowledging the fact that had they stayed on the search pattern, they would have been half a day from this very position, with no means of even knowing the Admiral had arrived.

"I just hope we're in time," he answered almost to himself. "Ready a rescue detail, Chip," he ordered, focusing on the task at hand despite the inner turmoil of knowing that if it _was_ Harry, he would have endured a ship wreck, an angry storm and nearly two days baking under the hot Pacific sun.

The chatter in the Control Room increased as ratings reported from their stations and Seaview began to rise from the depths. From the bottom of the ladder, Curley barked out orders to the rescue detail readying for the all-clear to crack the hatch. Slowly, Seaview ascended as the ocean depths were forced to relinquish its hold, until the grey, windowed submarine bobbed gracefully on the surface. Lee lowered his eyes in a moment of private self-reflection, unwilling to celebrate the victory of finding what was in all probability, the Admiral's craft. He heard Chip give the "All-clear" and immediately raised his head, and then headed to the ladder to follow the Detail topside. The visions had ceased but its accusations were waiting in the wings, ready to torment him if the spiral search had stolen Harry's chance to survive. Whatever the outcome, he needed to meet it head-on. Whatever the outcome, it was his responsibility to bear.

He deferred to the rescue detail as they hustled up the ladder, giving their rescue work priority over his ascent to the sail. Chip followed him, reaching for the mic and ready to issue orders to the Control Room as Lee raised the glasses. He focused the binoculars, spotting two unconscious figures sprawled helplessly on the raft; the auburn hair of the man at the rudder easily identifying the Admiral, the other he recognized as the Premier. On the deck below, Curly and the rescue detail were already boarding a rubber zodiac and pushing away from the sub. A moment later, the hum of the outboard motor was heard racing several hundred yards to the drifting raft.

"Inform Sickbay to expect two patients," Lee informed.

"The Admiral?" Chip asked, after relaying the order.

"He looks in bad shape. Something's wrong," he added, biting his bottom lip. It was more than the unhealthy pallor of Harry's face; he seemed to be in pain, even though he was apparently deeply unconscious. He continued to observe through the glasses, as the Detail intercepted the survival raft. Curley and a crewman expertly transferred to the raft, lowered the sail, and then secured a line. Within minutes, the rescue detail was towing the storm-battered raft toward Seaview.

"They're on their way," Lee informed, lowering the binoculars.

"Jamieson is standing by with stretchers," Chip relayed as he shipped the mic.

"Very well," he replied, turning for the deck hatch.

"Lee," Chip called, stopping his forward movement. "The spiral search was not only a reasonable course of action; it was the only _responsible_ one you could have taken at that point in time."

"I know, Chip," he conceded over his shoulder, his back still facing Chip's direction. "But what did it cost him?" he answered solemnly before making his way down the ladder and through the conning tower hatch.

# # # # #

Lee positioned himself on deck, ready to assist as soon as the boats arrived. The hot breeze of the afternoon sun stung his cheeks, despite the shade his service cap provided; a sharp reminder that the elements were cruel and unforgiving. Jamie and two corpsmen also arrived with collapsible stretchers. The rescue raft executed a slow approach, inching up next to Seaview as Curley guided the lifeboat into position, carefully mooring the small craft to the deck.

"Easy there," the gruff-voiced Chief of the Boat instructed, as he helped lift Admiral Nelson to Seaview's deck, "he's been shot."

Lee's eyes tightened in concern at the newest revelation as he helped by carefully placing the admiral on the deck and then stepping away to make room for Jamie and reaching for the second victim.

Jamieson moved in to make a quick assessment of his patient, quickly applying a compression bandage, then ordered oxygen and an IV before moving toward the second shipwreck victim.

"It's no use, Doc, he's dead," Curley informed, simultaneously handing a pistol over to Captain Crane.

The doctor checked for himself and then turned his attention back to Nelson who had just been transferred to the stretcher. He nodded, silently concurring and immediately turned his attention back to Nelson. "Let's get him to sickbay," he ordered as crewmen carefully picked up the Admiral.

"Jamie?" Lee inquired, seeking the doctor's initial assessment.

"I don't know yet, Captain. He's got a bullet in his leg and he's extremely dehydrated; his vitals reflect both of those issues. I'll do what I can," he promised and then hastily caught up with his patient to supervise the delicate process of vertically lowering the stretcher down the sail hatch.

Lee gazed up at the blue sky overhead, his brow tightening in quick assessment of the on-going danger. "Secure the detail, Chief, before eyes in the sky spot us," he ordered before turning towards Chip. "Mr. Morton, make ready to dive the boat as soon as the deck is cleared."

"Aye, aye, Skipper," the blond Executive Officer replied, speedily heading to the conning tower.

"Come on, Chief," the Captain prodded, as the two boats were deflated and quickly readied to be stowed.

"We're just about there, Skipper," Curley replied. "All right men, you heard the Captain – No, just take the rudder as it is, we don't have time to break it down," he instructed, hurrying the detail along. "Okay men, clear the deck!" he ordered, after the final preparations had been made.

Lee followed behind his men, securing the vertical conning tower hatch behind him and descending down the ladder, stopping to dog the hatch over his head before finishing his descent. "All green," was verified almost immediately.

"Dive the Boat, Mr. Morton," Lee ordered, skipping the last three rungs with an easy hop to the deck and making his way forward to the chart table. Dive klaxons rang loudly in the background as he perused the charts, seeking the most expeditious course to take. "Take us down to two hundred feet, bearing one-two-seven, ahead Full."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Chip acknowledged, before issuing the orders to the crew; several minutes later he returned to the chart table to report. "Depth, two-hundred feet; course, one-two-seven, proceeding at Full."

"Very well; maintain radio silence," he replied, raising his head to survey the situation lights and noting his First Officer's unspoken question. "We've got the body of the ex-Premier of an unfriendly country on board; I want Seaview deep-and-far from here in case we were spotted by satellite."

Chip nodded, agreeing with the strategy, given the political hotbed and its potential for disaster if handled incorrectly.

"This is where we're headed," Lee continued, pointing to coordinates on the map about an hour from their present position. "We'll tuck Seaview beside a seamount and see what swims by. If everything is clear after two hours, I'll order the boat to ninety feet and make contact with Washington."

"Aye Sir," the Exec replied as the professional ease the Command Team had previously enjoyed returned.

Lee remained focused, unable to rest until Seaview was secure; their situation was precarious should an enemy sub be dispatched in search of Brynov. Now wasn't the time to become complacent, and as with any voyage, the mission wasn't complete until he ensured Seaview's safe passage home.

"Coffee, sir?" a steward asked, holding a tray laden with the hot brew. He'd had little sleep the last few days, and the smell alone was like an elixir to his tired bones as he reached for a mug.

"Thanks, Johnson," he replied, taking a sip and glancing at his watch, briefly wondering how long until Jamieson could give him an update on the Admiral. Though he had faith in Seaview's CMO, he knew that he wouldn't be able to truly celebrate until he knew for sure Harry would be okay. With still too much to do, he pushed the thought from the forefront of his mind, and returned to charting a new course once they were on their way again.

**# # # # #**

Lee reached for the door handle and paused briefly before entering Sickbay. It had been several hours and Seaview was on her way again with no indication of sub activity in the area. Washington had been contacted regarding the situation, and was as anxious for Harry's report on the contents of the microfilm Lee now held in his cabin's wall safe. However, that information would have to wait until the Admiral woke from the anesthetics following surgery. There were a whole lot of unanswered questions that Washington needed answers for, especially since Byrnov's death didn't change the accusations he had leveled against the new regime. Dehydration and exposure had extended the admiral's recovery, adding to Washington's impatience. So far, Lee had managed to keep his own concern confined to the mission, at least on the outside. Inwardly, however, his concern was more appropriately defined as anxiousness. He needed to see Harry awake and to talk to him personally before he could put aside the self-accusations the vision had inflicted upon him. Even with his safe return, he couldn't help but wonder if Brynov could have been saved had Seaview been at the rendezvous point, rather than engaging in a search and rescue operation hours from the agreed upon orders; orders Harry had made him swear he'd follow to the letter.

He opened the door entering Sickbay poised and confident, despite his inner turmoil. He had made the best decisions he could at the time, but that didn't take away his responsibility for the outcome.

"He'll be coming around any minute now, Captain," Dr. Jamieson informed, tucking the stethoscope into his pocket as Lee approached.

"How is he, Doc?"

"It was a close one, between the blood loss and dehydration, but the surgery went well and his vitals are as good as can be expected. With the proper rest, he should have a full recovery," Jamie replied to Lee's relieved blow of breath. "He's very weak, Captain, so only a few minutes, please."

Lee nodded in agreement. "Did he, at any time, regain consciousness?"

"No Sir, he's been unconscious or sedated since he arrived in Sickbay."

An airy breath from Harry drew both men to either side of his gurney. Jamie checked his heartrate and then stepped away, satisfied the admiral wasn't in physical distress and allowing Seaview's Captain the privacy he needed.

"The raft…" Harry muttered, only half-awake as he tossed his head, before spotting Lee. "You found us," he said, once he focused and realized he was in sickbay.

"No Admiral, you found us. You were at the rendezvous when we picked you up," he replied, his forehead furrowed in a mixture of concern and regret. "I don't know how long you were there, Admiral. We arrived and you weren't here; I waited an entire day and initiated a spiral search. I'm not even sure how we missed you, but you were out there longer than you needed to be," he admitted regretfully, owning up to the fact that he had waivered from their agreed upon plan, at least for a time.

Harry smiled wearily. "You didn't find us because I steered us off-course."

"I don't understand, you steered off-course on purpose?" Lee asked, confused as to why he would delay a rescue the two men were obviously desperately in need of.

"I was afraid that you would find us too soon."

"Too soon?" At this point, Lee needed complete clarification. If it was anyone else, he could believe that they had become disoriented under the hot Pacific sun, but he was having a hard time believing that Harry had been anything but sane and calculating.

"Before Byrnov passed out," he explained. "If I hadn't gotten the gun away from him before we sighted the Seaview, he would have killed me."

Lee blew out an understanding breath as he reminded himself of the ruthless reputation of the ex-Premier. He had never trusted the man, but he needed more details to report to Washington. "Admiral, you said that Byrnov would have killed you. Why?"

Though he was tired, Harry knew that Lee didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle yet.

"The microfilm was real. It showed the location of the Republic's missiles, but they were _defensive_ missiles. Two men died trying to tell me about Byrnov's plan. He was trying to convince the US that the Republic planned a first strike so that he could return to power as its savior," he spat out. "Lee, that life boat started out with _eight_ men. Byrnov killed them off one by one to ensure his own survival. He's an animal! A ruthless, selfish _animal_," he said passionately and barely composed. "Where is he?" he asked disgustedly, glancing about Sickbay expectedly.

"He was dead when we picked you up," Lee informed, only now beginning to understand the terror Harry had endured on the lifeboat.

The Admiral scoffed, his voice breaking in heavy emotion, "I wish I could say I'm sorry," he stammered. "But I'm not… I'm not," he reiterated, nearly breaking-down in the passion of his candid, if not shocking declaration.

"Captain," Dr. Jamieson interjected, concerned for his patient and the toll the conversation was taking on him.

"Just a few more minutes, Doc," he implored with eyes that said there was more to be said.

Jamie reconsidered, nodding reluctantly. "No more than five minutes, Captain. He needs his rest."

Lee nodded in agreement. "Admiral… I'm sorry. I let you down by not staying at the rendezvous point," he apologized regretfully. He couldn't get around the fact that even with Harry purposely steering off-course, Seaview wasn't waiting for him as they agreed.

Harry shook his head, wearily countering Lee's assertion. "I knew you'd be there, Lee, that's why I steered off-course; to buy the time I needed for Byrnov to succumb to the elements. The fool was drinking sea water," he explained with little compassion for a man who hadn't earned the right to receive what he had never given another human being in his entire, worthless life. "The only thing that matters is that you were there, not when. But what made you come back?" he asked in sudden curiosity.

"I'm not sure. It was perfectly logical to continue the spiral search, but it wasn't what we agreed upon. Eventually, I just realized that if you were able… you'd find a way to make it there."

Harry cracked a small but sincere smile, knowing that his trust in Lee had been well-placed. _It was a stark contrast to Byrnov's treachery,_ he thought disgustedly, sighing with increasing weariness.

"I think Doc wants you to rest now," Lee said, noticing Harry's heavy eyelids and knowing that now wasn't the time to tell Harry about the agonizing visions that had plagued his every decision over the last few days.

"Aye, Captain," Harry jested tiredly, the ordeal too fresh to shake-off so soon and more than ready to accept the rest his body demanded.

Harry closed his eyes and dropped off to sleep without any transition as Lee watched the tense lines of stress on his face give way to the rest he needed. He lowered his head, almost overwhelmed by relief and breathed deeply, before stepping away and nodding toward Jamie on his way out.

"Skipper?" the doctor called before Lee reached the door.

"Yes," he turned and replied; concerned that Jamie had additional information on Harry's condition.

"Can I assume you'll be turning in for the night, now that the Admiral is back aboard?" he asked tentatively.

Lee rubbed the back of his neck, realizing that the last few days had, indeed, taken a toll on him. "I plan to, Jamie, just as soon as I report to Washington," he said with a small grin, willing to admit that his rack sounded good about now.

Jamie returned the smile, satisfied with the answer before returning to the Admiral's thick medical file on his desk.

# # # # #

Lee made his way up the spiral staircase. He had reported to Washington, set Seaview's course, and had tucked the boat in for the night. Though he'd had little sleep over the last few days, there was an unexpected spring in his step as he took the flight of stairs with the same ease he did on any other given day. Perhaps, he was in some sort of state of euphoria with the Admiral's successful rescue. Perhaps, it was the knowledge that ex-Premier Aleksei Brynov's evil plan had been averted, and the world slept at peace this night never knowing that it had been on the brink of war. More than likely, it was the fact that the vision that had wielded accusations of life-costing mistakes and dereliction of duty had proven to be a false premonition. It's only goal, it seemed, to promote self-doubt and perhaps even inducing him into choosing to follow the emotions of a dream and its visions, over his orders and years of experience.

Suddenly, his feet felt heavy and weary again. _Why didn't I see it sooner?_

He hastened his steps, the last thought having invoked a sudden realization, one he wanted to deal with in private. He reached his cabin and entered, leaning heavily against the door behind him, before pushing off. He headed to his desk and lowered himself purposely into his chair. Leaning back, he took several long breaths, practicing the breathing exercises that had helped him in the past. He closed his eyes and reasoned with himself not to avoid the memory this time.

…A pitch dark room that draped his captors in darkness while a single bright light lit the chair he was bound to… and then there were the questions.

_What is your name? _

_What is your rank? _

_What country are you loyal to?_

The questions went on for hours, with each truthful answer he uttered countered by relentless, painful shocks. Finally, three days into the brainwashing, something snapped. His will caved to the shock, drug treatment and sleep deprivation; suddenly he was proclaiming allegiance to the People's Republic and vowing to kill Admiral Harriman Nelson, the man who could destroy the world with his evil plans.

In just three days, his captors had managed to replace his morals along with his passion for duty and truth with a lie. He had bought into it…_ but not willingly_, he reminded himself. He'd been brainwashed.

He opened his eyes and expelled a breath, then drew another one. He hadn't allowed himself to run through that exercise for a long time, and he realized now, that it had nearly cost him dearly. _"Forgive yourself,"_ Harry had told him, reiterating the words of the therapist he was required to see before being cleared for duty. The exercise was simple; to allow himself to remember distantly… without emotion, and to accept the fact that the entire ordeal wasn't his fault.

He opened his misting eyes and nodded to himself. _You should have known, Crane,_ he admonished himself.

He had moved on from the horrific events at the Republic's hands and had done what he always did, compartmentalized his pain to get the job done. Only this time, it was too much; his mind had found a way to deal with the self-accusations. The original dream had come several months after the brainwashing, but he had failed to see the connection, or the similarities. Namely, that his bad decision had cost the Admiral's life… as if he had _chosen_ to be brainwashed. He knew it as clearly as if he were lying on the therapist's damn couch, reliving the entire three days of physical and mental torture over and over again… He stopped and breathed in and then out once again. This was his own personal breakthrough, and he didn't want to lose it, so he purposed to think it through, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.

The nightmare had been traumatic, more so than it should have been, most likely exasperated by the on-going pain he was attempting to squelch concerning the brainwashing. The mission into Republic waters had triggered that pain, along with the very real danger of Harry's mission. As such, the flashback visions had manifested themselves in an attempt to deal with the self-accusations he had pushed from the forefront of his mind; accusations that said he should have been able to resist the mind-bending techniques of his oppressor.

"Okay," he said out loud, "no more running from this," he determined, closing his eyes and taking himself back to the chair, the lights, the electric shock, the brainwashing, and the fact that he had almost pulled the trigger on his best friend. He ran through the entire exercise several times, each time ending with Harry's words, _"Forgive yourself."_

A single tear fell down his cheek, and then another one fell, until his face was wet. And for once, he didn't suppress the pain. He just let them fall as he finally embraced the fact that the brainwashing was out of his control.

Eventually the tears ran dry. He hadn't realized how much anger and disappointment he was still suppressing after all these months. Perhaps it wasn't a miracle cure, and he would have to revisit the unhappy memory again to keep his freedom, but it was a start. Because when something is broken deep inside a man, he can't just keep _pulling himself up by his bootstraps_ and ignore the pain. Sometimes, he has to stop and accept the fact… that he's only human.

**The End**

Broken

# # # # #

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing and sharing with you! Lynn  
**

*The First Season Seaview design apparently had propeller shafts and was mentioned in more than one episode. However, by the fourth season we discover that Seaview utilized turbines. We'll chalk this up to a complete retrofit when Admiral Nelson redesigned Seaview to berth the Flying Sub. If you find this sort of thing intriguing, check out Wikipedia's article entitled "USOS_Seaview" for more details of the SSRN Seaview; also, a shout-out to Mike's Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea website for all its content and insight into the series.

**Episode Credits:**

My story contains direct quotes and scenes from _The Exile_, written by William Read Woodfield, directed by James Goldstone, original airdate March 15, 1965.

**Also referenced: **

_The Saboteur,_ written by George Reed, directed by Felix Feist, original airdate February 22, 1965.

_Submarine Sunk Here_, written by William Tunberg, directed by Leonard Horn, original airdate November 16, 1965.


End file.
